


Sacred Texts on Post-It Notes

by FuryBeam136



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Connor is a disaster who doesn’t know how to feel, Connor uses Post-It notes to keep track of feelings, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Hank helps him, It was Hank’s idea, but I’m trying, but he has friends, connor has a hard time, friendships everywhere, fury tries to write little cute things, it probably won’t work, its the cutest thing I ever saw and I decided I wanted to write it, on fury’s account???, thats more familiar, there’s no way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-27 01:26:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18188000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuryBeam136/pseuds/FuryBeam136
Summary: Connor is understandably startled when Hank drops three packages of Post-It notes on his desk. Red, blue, yellow.





	1. Red, Blue, Yellow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iwritesometimes1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwritesometimes1/gifts).



> Hey my dude I went and did it

Connor is understandably startled when Hank drops three packages of Post-It notes on his desk. Red, blue, yellow. Connor blinks at Hank in confused silence, which clearly amuses the human.

“They’re for you, kid. To help you keep track of your feelings.”

“I have no difficulty keeping track of things, as it is literally impossible for me to forget them,” Connor reminds him, prompting a sigh.

“No. Listen. You’re always fuckin worrying about feelings and shit. This way you can look at things you like,” a finger presses onto the blue stack, “the things you don’t like,” the finger moves to red, “and the things you feel,” the finger moves to the yellow stack. “And before you say some shit about how you don’t feel cause you’re an android, that’s some bullshit and you know it. And if you aren’t gonna do this for yourself at least do it for me, alright?”

“Alright,” Connor says quietly. “I will.”

After some prompting from Hank, Connor takes a pen and a red note. His grip becomes tight enough to crack the plastic and the ink spills across his hand but he writes the words “Amanda’s Garden” in imperfect CyberLife Sans, the android equivalent of messy writing. He sticks the note above Sumo’s food bowl. It’s crooked, but Connor is too overwhelmed to care.

After he manages to calm down, he writes a few blue notes. No yellow notes yet. Just blue and red. He writes little things on them. Sumo. Hank. Working. And then he fixes the crooked red note and creates another to accompany it: disorganization. When Connor steps back, he is satisfied, and Hank encourages him to write it down. The cluster of colourful notes on the wall is nice. Neat. Straight sticky notes with perfect CyberLife Sans printing (save the first red one, but Connor suspects more red notes will end up written imperfectly and stops himself from fixing it).

Hank claps a hand on his shoulder and tells him he’s proud. Connor beams. And he has to admit Hank was right. It’s easier to understand once it’s written down.

“Comfort” joins the yellow notes before Connor goes to bed.


	2. Yellow: Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Light's red, tincan. You lyin' to get out of work?" And that. Is. It.

Connor is used to being expected to perform longer and at higher standards than any other employee at the DPD, even being recognized as a person. He's used to coming home late after hours of overtime to Hank snoring in his bed or asking Connor why he doesn't just take a break. It doesn't bother him. Connor was made to be a tirelessly working machine capable of continuing to function under such conditions. In fact, he was designed to function under harsher conditions, even. So when Captain Fowler drops not one, but two thick case files on his desk, Connor is... well, he doesn't really recognize the emotion yet, but it is good. A rush of energy. He opens the first file and is greeted by so much detail, and yet none. It is bothersome. Connor can work past it though.

The next file is more of the same. Lists of crimes that have been linked to a suspect without any real evidence that can confirm it. No doubt this is why they were handed to Connor. Humans couldn't figure out these cases, but perhaps an android can. Connor feels another good thing at the knowledge that he is superior to them, and then a pang of something negative as well. He'll identify it later. For now, he has work to do.

Connor works and works and gets nothing out of it. Dead end after dead end, he can't think straight at this point. He hasn't been home since yesterday. Hank is probably worried. Connor is feeling more exhausted than he ever has before. Likely because he has been analyzing crime scenes and sampling evidence and hasn't given himself time to recharge. His systems are running on too little power and it distracts Connor from his mission further. And then Reed has to get involved in this. Of course he does.

Connor has worked at it long enough to deserve a break. He really has. And he went to captain Fowler. He's allowed to take some time to properly recharge before returning. Gavin Reed doesn't miss the opportunity to antagonize him.

"Thought you metal fuckers could work forever," the detective snarls. "Get back to work, asshole, you're slowing the rest of us down."

Connor's LED swirls red as feelings he doesn't really recognize surge through him. Heat. Vicious, burning. Not the same warmth he feels when he's experiencing happiness or comfort. A burning, searing heat.

"I have spoken with captain Fowler. I have permission to take a break and recharge my systems so my work on the cases is not slowed."

"Light's red, tincan. You lyin' to get out of work?" And that. Is. It. Connor's systems flash red and he's grabbed detective Reed by the collar of his shirt and he feels like the thirium running through his body should be boiling from the intensity of the heat in his veins.

"I have been assigned two cases, detective, and I intend to solve them. It is none of your fucking business how I achieve that goal."

Connor releases Reed before his overwhelmed processes can choose to seriously injure the man. The desire to hurt him burns in Connor's head and he storms out of the precinct feeling just as hot and violent as he was inside. He gets home, and the feeling doesn't go away. It won't stop. Connor wants to break something. Systems flash red and his fist is driven into the wall before he can really process what he's doing.

Hank comes in, of course. The sound of the action has drawn his attention. It's Hank's day off. Connor doesn't have days off. Normally that doesn't bother him, but right now it just makes the violent, vicious feeling worse. "Connor? You alright, kid?"

"I am experiencing an emotion I cannot identify." Connor's words come out clipped and he really didn't mean for them to. "Detective Reed confronted me about taking a break to recharge after captain Fowler gave me permission to do so. I want to break things and my body feels very hot." He knows the drill. Tell Hank what it feels like. Tell him why it happened. Hank will understand. Hank will know.

"You're angry, Connor." Hank chuckles. "You're angry that asshole is still treating you as less than him."

And... yes, that is accurate. Connor is feeling... anger in response to a situation he disliked.

Two more Post-It notes join the lists above Sumo's food bowl before Connor goes back to work. A yellow noting labeled "anger" listing the symptoms (Hank continues to tell Connor he shouldn't call them symptoms, calling them symptoms implies emotions are a disease, and while he is technically right, Connor can't seem to find a better word) of the feeling. A red note labeled "Gavin Reed" is posted as well. Connor isn't really sure why that one wasn't there sooner.


End file.
